


Tales of Brave Ulysses

by Lila82



Series: What Do You Go Home To? [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 13:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3979330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lila82/pseuds/Lila82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s hard running things, but Bellamy has a promise to keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tales of Brave Ulysses

 

* * *

 

_“You thought the leaden winter would bring you down forever.”_  


  


_“Take care of them for me,”_ Clarke says when he’s awake, eyes bright and blue as the sky above. 

_“Take care of them for me,”_ she whispers when he’s asleep, soft lips on his cheek as she says goodbye. 

_“Take care of them for me,”_ Bellamy mumbles as he forces himself out of bed, pushes to his feet to start the day. 

He didn’t ask for it but he’s used to the burden. Octavia had weighed barely anything when his mother laid her in his arms but she’d grasped his finger with surprising strength. _“My sister, my responsibility,”_ he’d said, feeling so young and desperately unprepared as she stared up at him with eyes holding nothing but trust. 

He ducks though the doorway of his tent and surveys the camp as dawn breaks. Hardly anyone is out at this hour save a few guards changing shifts and the breakfast crew, but there’s a tightness in his chest as he counts heads, checks to be sure that everyone is behind the fence. Captain Denby nods at him as he inspects his guards, just a slight movement of his head, but it goes a long way to ease some of the weight pressing on his heart.

It’s his burden, but it’s a little easier knowing he’s not entirely alone.

 

* * *

 

They’re home an hour before he sends Lincoln back into the woods. Or rather, they’re _safe_ an hour before he sends Lincoln off.

Home was a tiny cramped apartment on the Ark, a woman and a boy and a little girl asleep beneath the floor. Home was where his family was, where Octavia was. He has Octavia back, but something else is missing, a tiny hole in his heart that widens each time he turns to Clarke and finds himself wanting. He’s known her less than three months but it’s hard to remember a time before her, to make a decision without considering her opinions, no matter how unwanted they were in the early days. He still looks for her, thinks she'll be there with a down-turned mouth and forehead knitted together in concentration, but each time he glances over his shoulder there’s just free air, a gaping space where he expects her to be. 

So he packs a bag, raids the mess tent and clothing depot, and tracks down Lincoln. He’ll respect her wishes and let her go, but he demands a guarantee that she’ll return.  


“I need a favor,” he asks the man who’s slowly becoming something like a brother. Lincoln’s relationship with Octavia aside, he’s strong and loyal and knows the woods better than any of them. He’s the only one who can do this for him. Lincoln looks up, meets Bellamy’s gaze with his usual blank expression. When he doesn’t say anything, Bellamy realizes he’s waiting to hear more. “I need you to find Clarke and give her this.” He holds out the bag.

Lincoln studies it without reaction. “Should I bring her back?”

Bellamy hesitates. He wants desperately to say yes, to ask Lincoln to throw her over his shoulder and drag her to Camp Jaha, to remind her that they’re in this together. He curls his fist at his side, feels the weight of her fingers pressing over his as they pushed the lever, snuffed out the light from three hundred souls. He wants Lincoln to tell her that she’s not alone, that he’ll forgive the darkest thought she’s ever had, but he saw her eyes when she walked away and can’t make it hurt more. 

He shakes his head. “No, just…make sure she’s okay.” 

Lincoln nods solemnly, hefts the bag over his shoulder and starts towards the tent he shares with Octavia. Bellamy lets out a breath, hopes he’s making the right decision.

Later, his sister finds him when he’s slurping down a bowl of stew between meetings. There’s people to house and a forest full of Grounders that are no longer allies – taking ten minutes to eat is probably a luxury he can’t afford. 

“Hey O,” he says between swallows and pats the seat next to him.

She studies him with narrowed eyes. Her face has been scrubbed clean of the war paint, but she still looks like a Grounder. She’s stronger, tougher, more confident in who she is and why she’s here, and if not for those familiar blue eyes, he’s not sure he’d recognize his sister.

“You look like crap,” she says, crosses her arms over her chest and stares him down, Grounder braids swinging around her face.

He sighs and puts down the bowl. “I have a lot to do.” 

Octavia rolls her eyes. “You saved our people, Bell. Take a moment for yourself.”

All around them, the camp keeps moving forward. There are patrols on the fence and makeshift tents popping up to house new citizens. Bellamy glances past the stew pot and spots Monty coaxing Harper into eating something while Jasper stares moodily into the fire. He rubs his eyes and prepares to get up, see to his people’s needs the way he promised. 

Octavia follows his gaze and puts a hand on his shoulder. If he touched her palm, it would be peppered with callouses and scabs, the marks of a warrior and so different than the seamstress-in-training he knew on the Ark. Back then, the prick of a needle was the worst injury they suffered. He pushes away thoughts of all the carnage he’s inflicted on others. “Bell,” she says softly. “You did enough.” She cocks her head towards their people on the other side of camp. “I’ll handle it.”

His sister is changed, but Bellamy is still bigger and he shrugs off her hand and pushes to his feet. “It’s my – ”

She catches his wrist, so he can feel the scars seared into her skin, and she shows her strength, twisting so his arm aches, so he stops in his tracks. “You don’t have to do this alone.” She stops, her pretty face twisting with anger. “ _She_ shouldn’t have made you do this alone.”

It lights a fire in him, hearing his sister talk about Clarke, and he pulls out of her grip, faces her down from his full height. “You have no idea what she’s going through,” Bellamy finds himself defending their missing leader, the girl that sold her soul to bring them all home.

“I know that she let a missile fall on TonDC! I know that she irradiated three hundred people, people that helped ours!” 

Bellamy closes his eyes, the realization setting in. He’d felt the tension between his sister and Clarke, and now he understands why. He wants to judge her. Octavia – his _sister_ – was in that village, but he remembers the anguish etched into Clarke’s face when they found Jasper and Maya. Whatever happened in TonDC, the decision wasn’t made lightly.

He tries to find the words to explain, but for once, they fail him. He has no inspiring speech, only the lingering guilt of how much this war took from them. “We did what had to be done,” he finally says, hopes his sister understands – it wasn’t just Clarke that pulled the lever.

After a moment, Octavia smiles softly, reaches out to ruffle his hair. “You’re one of the good guys, big brother,” she says, surprises him with her next statement. “I’m glad you sent Lincoln after Clarke.”

He blinks down at her. “Really?”

“Jeeze, Bell, I’m not a monster. I might hate what she did, but I don’t want her dead.” She swats his arm with more force than he remembers, this strong, fierce sister of his, and it knocks him off-balance for a moment. When he recovers she’s smiling at him, broadly this time, and she shoves at his shoulder in the direction of his tent. “I mean it though. Take care of yourself. I’ll take care of them.”

“Okay,” he agrees and stumbles towards his tent, stops at the flap to watch Octavia wrap a comforting arm over Jasper’s shoulders. She’s the only one he’ll tolerate and he leans into her a bit, rests his head on her shoulder while she whispers something in his ear. It’s the sister he remembers, the sweet girl he raised on the Ark, and he lets the memory lull him into sleep. He expects nightmares but it’s a dreamless sleep, deep and uninterrupted, and when he wakes at dawn he feels rested for the first time in days.

 

* * *

 

Lexa arrives the next morning. She looks smaller without her armor and war paint, like a little girl playing dress up, but she meets Bellamy’s gaze with steely eyes and he knows it’s the Commander wearing a child’s face. She’s younger than him but no older than Clarke, yet she leads armies, speaks for thousands, and she regards the Sky People with a face carved from ice.

“I am hoping we can come to an agreement,” she says simply, after she’s been stripped of weapons and led to the remnants of Alpha Station. The majority of the camp isn’t privy to her betrayal and they merely look at her curiously, another oddity in this strange land, but the survivors know the truth. Monty looks mournful and Harper glares, Miller actually snarls before his father lays a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder. Lexa holds her head high and steps into the steel room and it’s never felt more like a cage. 

Bellamy feels the tension tightening in his shoulders and struggles to keep his face blank. He never wanted to see Lexa again and now he’s stuck in a room with her, sitting serenely at their table and acting as if she didn’t sell out their people only two days earlier. He shoves his hands in his pockets to keep from lashing out. He doesn’t think he'd regret it, but it won’t help matters either.

Kane eyes him warily as they take their places at the table, sitting in a wide circle with chairs placed at equal distances from each other. It’s supposed to illustrate the participants’ equal stature, that no one opinion carries more weight than others, but it makes Bellamy think of ancient tales, Arthur and his chivalrous knights. He looks around the table, sees each participant for what they truly are: Kane and Abby didn’t irradiate the mountain, but they sent children to their deaths, culled three hundred more souls from the Ark. He looks away in disgust. There’s no honor here.

“Lexa,” Abby says calmly. “Why are you here?” Her face is a calm mask, but her eyes are hard and the Commander seems surprised by the fierce leader she’s up against. The Chancellor isn’t the same woman who came to the ground with hope in her eyes. Her complexion is wan and there’s a fine sheen of sweat on her face, but she insisted on coming to the meeting. “I’m still the Chancellor,” she’d said, tugging on the pin fastened to her lapel. “We’re a team,” she’d added, gesturing them forward so she could sling an arm around their shoulders. Her left leg had hung awkwardly at her side, but she’d grit her teeth and taken a tentative step forward, Kane and Bellamy carrying her weight. Together, they’d walked to the conference room, depositing her in the chair before letting Lexa through the gates. 

“We need to represent a united front,” Kane had explained and asked a guard to get Jackson so Abby could freshen up for the meeting. She still looks unwell but her jaw is set and she’s not backing away from Lexa’s cool stare.

“I would like to propose a deal,” the Commander says and Bellamy actually bites down on his tongue to keep from snapping at her. It’s enviable, actually, her ability to forget the horrors she set in motion. He would never be so bold as to ask for help from the people he wronged.

Kane and Abby exchange a look before the Chancellor speaks. “What kind of deal?”

“The Skaikru broke the mountain but my people would see it burn.” Lexa’s expression remains impassive but her eyes blaze in her blank face. 

“You want us to help you blow up Mount Weather?” He tries, but Bellamy can’t quite keep the venom out of his voice.

Lexa turns unreadable eyes in his direction. “Belomi kon Skaikru,” she says in Trigadesleng. “You are a hero of the mountain but heroes need no monuments. Your legend will live in our people’s memories.”

Bellamy doesn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes. He doesn’t care about glory – he cares about getting back into bed with a woman that sold them out to real life vampires. He cares about letting his people down again. 

Kane must see his rage because he steps in before Bellamy can respond. “The Mountain Men are gone,” he reminds Lexa. “We irradiated all of them. There’s no reason to destroy the facility.”

“For a hundred years, they stole my people. Hunted them like animals. Tortured and killed them. Turned them into Reapers.” Her face contorts, emotion breaking like a waterfall. “You think your people suffered?” She shakes her head, lowers her eyes while she composes herself. “The men are gone, but not their implements of torture.” She looks directly at Bellamy. “No one should be at their mercy again.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy and laced with grief, and Bellamy tamps down the urge to feel sorry for her. He hates her, will _never_ forgive her betrayal, but he understands her better. She has a hundred years of history bearing down on her shoulders, but he does too. A hundred years his people survived in the sky, fought to one day build new lives on the ground. No matter what it costs him, he can’t let that dream die now. 

“We need a week,” he says and the group falls silent, every eye in the room trained on his face. Abby and Kane watch him curiously, but don’t protest, seemingly content to let him deal with the Grounders like Clarke did in the past. “There are supplies that we need in Mount Weather. If your people help us move them, we’ll help you blow up the mountain.” He fixes his stare on Lexa. “Then I never want to see you again.”

Lexa looks at him as if she’s seeing him for the first time. “We are agreed,” she says slowly, holds out her hand and waits a beat for him to shake it. “Is this not how the Sky People secure agreements?”

Kane and Abby stare as he crosses the room to grasp Lexa’s hand. “Agreed,” he says and pushes past her, keeps walking until he’s in the yard, chest heaving as he tries to ease the rage building in his chest. 

He bends at the waist and pulls in deep breaths, drawing cool air into his lungs and soothing the fire there. He can’t believe the deal he made, the terms he set, helping a woman who’s brought his people nothing but grief, and it makes the rage burn even brighter. A hand claps down on his shoulder and he spins away, fist cocked and ready to swing.

Kane watches him with raised brows and Bellamy lowers his fist, tries to maintain some dignity when his ears are turning red in embarrassment. He loses control – it’s not exactly a secret – but he’d rather Kane not see that part of him. But he’s a man grown now, no matter the boy screaming from inside his head, so he straightens his posture and meets Kane’s gaze head on.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“You did the right thing,” Kane says, gently squeezes Bellamy’s shoulder before dropping his hand to his side. “I know it wasn’t an easy choice.”

Bellamy swallows hard but struggles not to look away. He doesn’t deserve Kane’s approval, not after what he did. “I didn’t want to, but we need those supplies.” He tries to explain why he let Lexa back into their lives – his people need to live, to thrive, and they can’t do it without the mountain. It was out of his control.

“Weary is the head that wears the crown,” Kane offers. “It won’t get easier, but it won’t always be this hard.” He and smiles kindly before saying goodbye. 

Bellamy’s neck sags under from the effort to keep his head upright and it takes all the energy he has left to drag his aching body to his tent. Not for the first time, he hates Clarke for leaving him here alone. It will always be impossible so long as he’s doing this without her.

 

* * *

 

Every inch of his body hurts, from his toenails to the hair on his head, and he’s already toeing off his boots when he steps inside his tent. He’s not paying much attention to his surroundings, too focused on lowering the zipper of his jacket, but he senses her there, a prickly feeling on the back of his neck, and he turns slowly, the knife he keeps in a sheath at his hip now clenched in his hand.

“Lower your weapon,” Lexa says calmly, rises from her perch on his mattress to stand before him. There’s only a thin trickle of moonlight illuminating the tiny space, but he can see her clearly, and he turns his head so he doesn’t have to look at her traitorous face. 

“Get out, Lexa,” he snaps. “I agreed to your terms. We have nothing left to say to each other.”

She ignores his request “Where is Clarke?” 

He glares at her, knife steady at his side. “She’s gone.”

“Gone where?” 

There’s a slight catch in Lexa’s voice – like she’s worried, like she _cares_ – and it makes his blood boil, makes him see red, makes him want to strike something, anything, but especially her. He doesn’t strike her though, uses his words instead of his fists. “Just gone,” he says quietly, but razor sharp. “Because of you, because of what you made her do.” He takes a step forward with the knife still in his hand, until it’s so close that it presses against the woven cloth of her shirt. “You left her with an impossible choice and now she’s gone to make peace with it. If anything happens to her…” He trails off when his voice trembles, takes a steadying breath to regain his composure. “It was you,” he hisses. “It’s all on you.”

For a long time Lexa doesn’t say anything, simply stares at him with stricken eyes, but then she holds a hand to her chest and inhales, and when she looks at him it’s only the Commander that he sees. “Clarke is strong,” Lexa says. “She will be fine.”

Bellamy doesn’t disagree with the sentiment. Clarke _is_ strong and he won’t let himself believe that she won’t survive, but he doesn’t like the confidence in Lexa’s voice, like she knows Clarke well enough to understand her mind. “You’re the reason she left,” he reminds her.

Lexa nods, carefully eyeing the knife pressed into her stomach. “But she will return. I know she will.” 

There’s a new fire in him, hot and aching, a pain that burns in his heart rather than the walls of his chest. It takes him a moment to realize it’s jealousy, because whatever Lexa shared with Clarke, he hasn’t had the same experience himself. She’s been his friend and his partner, but there’s a heat in Lexa’s eyes that he’s never seen in Clarke’s, at least not while she was looking at him. All those long nights locked away in Lexa’s tent…was it more than battle plans transpiring between them? 

Lexa continues to regard him coolly, paying no attention to the blood beading at the tip of his knife, but he can’t look away from it. Blood, he thinks, so much blood. He glances at his hands and they’re clean, even with a bit of dirt caked under the fingernails, but they’re still soaked in blood. Clarke’s too, when they traded the lives of three hundred strangers for the people they loved. Whatever Lexa’s done for her people will never compare. The fire rages into this throat and threatens to steal his words, but he swallows it down and focuses on the task at hand. 

“You’ll help us clean out Mount Weather, because that’s your end of the deal, but don’t think Clarke is part of the bargain. You betrayed her.” He drops the knife but leans into her, takes up all the space in the cramped tent. “You made Finn’s death meaningless. She’ll never forgive you for that.” Lexa’s head whips back, like his words were a blow, eyes widening as she realizes his true meaning. She looks vulnerable and sad, nothing like the steely Commander he’s come to know, and it’s more unsettling than the masks her people wear into battle. “Get out,” he orders so he doesn’t have to look at her anymore, won’t feel sorry for the mess she’s made of her own life. 

He’s exhausted when he finally settles down for the night, but sleep eludes him and he lies in his bed, praying that he’s right. If Clarke lets Lexa back in, he’s not sure he’ll ever forgive her.

 

* * *

 

It takes another day to organize people and equipment. Bellamy worries about leaving bodies in the mountain, but Jackson assures them that the late fall temperatures will buy them a couple days. More important, it’s a long hike back to the Mount Weather and it means prepping rations and finding water bottles, but also rounding up participants. Bellamy calls upon the authority Kane granted him to pull together an army. He’s their Security Chief’s second and it gives him the power he needs to impress able-bodied adults into service.

“No,” Wick says when Bellamy tells him to report to the yard at first light. They’re in the med-bay, standing beside Raven’s cot because Wick hasn’t left her side since he carried her through the gate.

“It’s not a request,” Bellamy says firmly, rubs a hand over his eyes. He’s had this conversation countless times today – no one wants to go, but it needs to be done. Despite his best attempts, Wick isn’t going to argue his way out either.

“Take Sinclair or Monty. He has the skills.” Wick’s real meaning goes unsaid, that if Monty could irradiate three hundred people, he can locate the electronic equipment.

Raven has been uncharacteristically quiet during their exchange, but she snaps to attention after Wick’s last statement, struggles to sit up with two bad legs. “Figures,” she’d said when Bellamy came to check on her their first night back. “I already have one gimpy leg and the Mountain Men drill the other.” Abby thinks she’ll recover full movement in her right leg, but it will take time, and not soon enough to participate in the mission. “Kyle,” she says softly, gesturing for him to fluff her pillows. “Come here.”

Bellamy walks a few feet away to give them privacy, heads bent together while Raven whispers furiously in Wick’s ear. He studies his boots to keep from looking at them. They may not agree, but they’re a team, and it’s another reminder that he’s doing this alone. “Dammit, Clarke,” he thinks to himself. He knows she needs time to heal, but it’s not fair leaving him to clean up their mess.

“I’ll be there,” Wick calls out. He’s scowling but Raven is smirking, and Bellamy gives them a small nod of acknowledgement. Before, he might have teased, made a lame comment about Wick being whipped, but there’s no time for joking around. He has more people to recruit, jobs to assign…he rolls his shoulders as he walks across the yard. There never seems to be enough time to get everything done.

There’s a shout at the gate and he slows in his tracks, heart pounding furiously in his chest. The Ark survivors are easily recognizable – there can be only one reason for so much excitement. He speeds up, hurrying to the gate as quickly as seems natural, hope curling around the column of his throat. 

He arrives at the fence and his heart sinks into his belly, burns so badly he thinks he might have a scorched hole in his abdomen. Lincoln is standing just inside the yard while the guards pat him down for weapons. Bellamy waits a beat and counts to ten, school his features into a blank expression before walking to the gate.

“Heya kom houm,” he says in Trigadesleng, _Welcome home_. The guards melt away as he pushes through the crowd, even men twice his age, but he doesn’t let it go to his head, not when he has more important things to do. Bellamy needs to know what the other man found. 

He takes Lincoln to his tent then gets him a bowl of stew, careful to avoid his sister. She’ll want a dramatic reunion with her grounder, but Bellamy’s anxious to debrief him. “You were gone a long time,” he says while Lincoln attacks his food. He pauses, asks the question that’s been weighing on his mind for days. “Did you find her?”

Lincoln nods and eats another spoonful of stew. “She was grateful for the supplies, but they will soon run out.” He swallows. “I stayed so she could learn to build a fire and hunt her own food, sew clothes from their skins.” 

“Thanks,” Bellamy responds. He’s glad he sent Lincoln rather than venturing out himself. He can take down a boar or a mutant panther, but he couldn’t survive completely on his own. Clarke was always tucked away in medical or dealing with the Ark. She knows even less. “How is she?”

Lincoln sets aside his bowl and meets Bellamy’s gaze, and for maybe for the first time ever, Bellamy sees something there. Understanding, he thinks, but it’s Lincoln, and it could just be a trick of light. “She says you will meet again.” 

He rises to his feet and ducks through the tent flap, leaves Bellamy alone while his heart races through his battered chest. He can’t help the smile that breaks across his face.

 

* * *

 

The Chancellor is waiting at the gate when they leave at dawn. She’s leaning heavily on Jackson and ignoring whatever he tells her, beckoning Bellamy forward. “The least I can do is see them off,” she says and Jackson sighs but steps away to give them privacy.  
Abby grimaces heavily as she settles her weight on her good leg, but finds her balance and stands before Bellamy on her own two feet. 

He'd been the one to tell her that Clarke left, came to her bed in the med-bay with his head bowed in failure. He’d taken a breath, prepared to tell her that she’d gotten her daughter back just to lose her again. She’d calmly listened as he told her about Clarke, careful to add that he’d sent Lincoln after her with supplies, that he was taking care of her even in absentia. When he was finished, he’d braced himself for Abby’s wrath. “It’s your fault,” he waited for her to scream. _“It’s always your fault.”_ Six hundred souls, half of them his own people, would readily agree.

Except the accusation hadn’t come. “Thank you for trying,” she’d said and smiled at him sadly. It reminded him of how his mother used to watch Octavia, eyes brimming with love but also a deep regret. They didn’t have much on the Ark, but Octavia would always have less, and his mom had never stopped blaming herself.

He’d blinked at Abby in surprise. “You’re not angry?” 

She’d shaken her head. “I’m disappointed, but mostly scared. She’s out there by herself. I can’t protect her.”

Guilt had seeped into his heart. _“Take care of them for me,”_ repeats in his head, the promise he’s been tasked with keeping. There were twenty-four people relying on him – he couldn’t protect them both. “I thought you’d yell at me,” he’d finally said.

Abby had laughed and brought a raspy cough with it, but shooed Jackson away when he rushed to her side. “I sent Clarke to die, then followed her to earth. She fought a war, escaped Mount Weather, and I still got her back.” Abby’s smile had been watery when she’d looked at him. “What’s a few weeks in the woods when I know she’ll come home?”

It’s only been a few days but Bellamy’s felt every one of them, so many decisions he’s made and second guessed, and that uncertainty drops back into the pit of his belly when confronted with Clarke’s mother. 

“You have everything you need?” Abby asks, lips pinched with pain but her eyes clear. 

Bellamy nods. “Kane double-checked to be sure.”

She smiles at him and it again reminds him of his mother, the smile on her face when he told her he’d been admitted to the guard as a cadet. “He trusts you.”

Abby’s smile does something to him, touches a place inside that he thought died with his mom, and to his surprise, he smiles back. “I won’t let you down,” he promises and Abby’s smile widens. Their relationship has always been strained (his history on the Ark, his closeness with Clarke), but it means something to him, keeping that promise. He wants her to know that Clarke didn’t choose him by chance. 

She props her crutch under her arm and claps her hand down on his shoulder, like Kane the night before, gives the same slight squeeze. “I know you will.”

Across the yard, Kane gestures for him to get moving and Bellamy gives Abby a little nod of understanding. He knows that he doesn’t need her approval, knows in his heart that he’s no longer the boy calling for _whatever the hell we want,_ but it’s reassuring to see that other people recognize the man he’s become, that it’s not just happening in his head.

He stands a little straighter as he crosses the yard and stares up at the mountain in the distance. It looms over their camp like a menacing shadow, a dark threat in the pale morning light, and he swallows hard but doesn’t look back. He’s ready to face the things that he’s done.

 

* * *

 

It’s an eight-hour trek to Mount Weather and they make good time, arriving half an hour before their designated meeting with the Grounders. The hike had been quiet and focused, and Bellamy could have blamed it on exhaustion or the lengthy distance between camps, but he knows it’s the path leading their group to the mountain. Less than a week before, it had guided them home and today it’s escorting them into a living nightmare. Many of the twenty-four have joined the mission and walk along the perimeter of the column, rifles clenched in tense fists. Bellamy doesn’t think he’s seen Miller blink since they left Camp Jaha. There had been protests from the adults – _“They’re children! Let them heal while we rebuild!”_ – but their fight was lost the moment David Miller stepped forward and addressed the group.

“You weren’t there,” he’d said softly. “You didn’t watch them drain children of their blood, throw away their bodies like garbage.” He’d turned his eyes to Miller, shaking with fury at the back of the crowd. “You weren’t chained to a wall knowing your son was next. This is my story, but it’s the same for every person in that room. Don’t tell us what we can’t do.”

It was the most Bellamy had ever heard the man say, and put Miller’s stoicism into perspective, but he was grateful for it. He would have argued a similar course of action, but without the same results. Despite his help in bringing down the mountain, to many he’s still _that kid from Factory that tried to kill the Chancellor_. David Miller’s son was sent to the ground, but people’s esteem for him never dimmed. They listen when he speaks and Bellamy will need that authority in the days ahead. Wick keeps scowling and Jasper won’t stop glaring at Monty. It makes Bellamy’s head ache and the mission hasn’t even begun.

His head begins to pound thirty minutes later when Lexa and her entourage step into the clearing. She’s brought Indra with her, and a team of Grounders that look vaguely familiar, but he’s mostly relieved to see Echo standing just behind the Commander. He hasn’t forgiven her for her part in Lexa’s betrayal, but he doesn’t blame her either, not like he does the others. 

He’d warned his people of what to expect, prepped the twenty-four individually before agreeing to let them come, but there’s still a long, tense moment when Miller raises his rifle a little too high. His dad rushes over and talks him down, and Bellamy’s glad his own gun is resting against his lower back. If it had been in his hands, he’s not sure he wouldn’t have pointed it directly between Lexa’s eyes.

“Heya, Bellamy,” she says. “Heya, Marcus.” 

Kane looks pointedly at Bellamy after returning her greeting. They’ve already discussed that Bellamy will be the one dealing with Lexa, so he grits his teeth and meets her halfway. 

Indra moves to follow her commander but Lexa holds up a hand and the Grounders fall back to their side of the clearing. “We have a lot of work to do,” he says. “We need to move the bodies and pack up the supplies. When we have what we need, then and only then, will you get your explosion.”

“We come in good faith,” Lexa says softy. She looks even less like a warrior today, with her hair pulled back and wearing a simple tank top and pants. He glances around and while her people carry weapons, they wear no armor. They’re here to work, not to fight, and it gives him hope that he can pull this off.

He’s the first to hold out his hand but the second to let go, and there’s a low murmur from both sets of former allies, but no one does anything to break the fragile truce. “Alright. Let’s get started.” 

They need to move the bodies before they do anything else, but getting to the bodies means going inside the mountain. Each footstep feels impossibly heavy as Bellamy treads to the front door, still open ajar, like it was waiting for its occupants to come home. In a way they are. The Ark sheltered survivors too, in the sky rather than under the earth, but they both dreamed of one day returning to the ground. 

Bellamy sucks in a gulp of free air and wedges his shoulder against the warped steel. It sticks for few seconds before swinging open with a bleating yawn and he finds himself staring into a black, gaping grave. He hesitates a moment, almost asking Kane to go first. The older man has the training, the experience, their people’s trust – he kept them alive all those years in the sky. But they’re no longer in the sky and Kane’s no longer in charge – what kind of leader would he be if he can’t take the first step?

He closes his eyes and takes the first step into the gloom.

 

* * *

 

The bodies are cremated by sundown. It was a simple process – too simple in Bellamy’s opinion – but they were a health risk and needed to be removed. One after the other, they’d dumped them down the trash chutes and collected the corpses in the tunnels, pushed carts upon carts of bodies to the pyres in the clearing. It had gone unspoken that they would burn them as they were, resources be damned. Wearing one shirt until it’s literally rags is a minor nuisance when it means being alive.

“Yu gonplei ste odon,” he whispers to the fire, watches a woman’s blue dress burn to ash, a little girl’s fingers melt as the flames climb higher. A year ago, he’d watched his mother disappear into the cold recesses of space, but the result is the same: an endless nothing where a person used to be. It turns his stomach but he can’t look away.

A small hand slips into his, calloused and rough but comforting and familiar. Octavia rests her head on his shoulder and silently contemplates the flames. She stays with him until only embers remain, lets him walk her to her tent. Lincoln’s still affected by tone generators and had to remain at Camp Jaha, so Bellamy tucks her in like she’s still a child and slaying her demons under his floor. He kisses her forehead and brushes her hair back from her face, and her smile warms the empty places in his heart. So many bodies, so much death, and he’s still able to kiss his sister goodnight. 

He’s exhausted as he leaves Octavia’s tent and walks across the makeshift camp to his own, massaging his temples in a futile attempt to get rid of his headache. It morphs into a full-bodied throb when he slips through entrance flap and finds Lexa in his space.

“I’m not in the mood,” he says, blinking back a spike of pain when he drops down too quickly onto the bedroll.

“We committed three hundred souls to the next life.” She’s staring at her clasped hands, and sitting so close, he’s suddenly aware of how tiny she is. Not just young but small, and yet so powerful. It seems all the women in his life share the same traits.

“Yup,” he replies, not sure what else to say, conscious of the steady pounding in his head. He’s really not in the mood for a heart to heart with Lexa. 

“My people have a saying,” she continues, looks at him so he can just make out her eyes in the darkness, a fierce, determined blue. “The dead are gone but the living are hungry.” She blinks furiously and even in the dim light, Bellamy swears he sees the glint of tears. “All we do is to keep our people safe.” She rises to her feet and smoothes down her hair so when she faces him she’s the commander again. “Rest, Belomi kon Skaikru. You will need your strength in the days to come.” 

He glares at the tent flap as it swings back into place, furious that she thinks she knows him, even if his eyelids itch and beg to be closed. Still, it doesn’t make sense to stay awake just to spite her, so he kicks off his boots and tucks his jacket under his head, slipping into sleep almost immediately. It makes him resent her even more.

 

* * *

 

Collecting supplies is easy, but transporting them is a more complicated process. Bellamy takes Wick into the abandoned garage, tone generator in hand, and shows him the cars. “Can you get them running?” 

Wick opens the hood of a rusty truck and coughs. “If you have fuel, I’ll build you a caravan.”

Bellamy double checks that the guard team has flex cuffs in case a Reaper comes along. They’re no longer allies, but they’re not enemies either, and he doesn’t want more blood on his hands. “Do not shoot them,” he reminds the guards and throws in a hard stare for good measure.

“Yes, sir,” they say, even salute, before taking position on either side of Wick. 

It still surprises him that they listen to him, but there’s also no time to dwell on it, so he  
leaves them with Wick and his tone generator and hikes back to Level Five to supervise the supply collection. 

From what he can tell, things are going well. Monty has secured seeds and dry goods, thinks they have enough food to make it through winter and support a growing population in years to come. Jackson has ransacked medical, and it’s not just antibiotics or pressure dressings. “There’s an x-ray machine! IV drips and EKG monitors! We can provide real care for our people.” His enthusiasm is so contagious that Bellamy’s still smiling when he goes to check in with Kane.

“How’s it going?” There haven’t been any altercations between the Grounder and Sky People teams yet, but he isn’t holding his breath.

“So far, so good.” Kane points to where Lexa herself is helping a team of her people pack up dishes. “Your agreement is working.”

“Good, that’s good.” There are stacks of clothes and linens, pots and pans and couches and bed frames. Most things will likely sit in the trucks until they can build permanent housing, but clean underwear will go a long way in boosting morale in the camp.

“What about you? How are you doing?”

“Fine.” He’s anything but fine, but he can’t let Kane know that. There’s too much riding on this mission and if he lets go for one moment he could lose it all, like a sweater unraveling, and that’s not an option. He studies his boots when he feels Kane looking at him.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Bellamy jerks his head up, expecting pity in Kane’s eyes, but he finds respect there instead. “We almost died here,” Kane says. “You should be upset.” 

_“Take care of them for me,”_ Clarke whispers in his ear. _“Don’t let me down.”_ “I made a promise.” 

“To Clarke?”

“To everyone.” Bellamy pauses, feels the press of her lips against his cheek. “I bear it, so they don’t have to.”

“We all bear it,” Kane says. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking your guilt matters more than others’.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that it’s okay to let this mean something, to let our people know that it means something, that they’re not alone in their grief.” Kane holds up his hand at a gesturing Monroe. “Just some food for thought.” 

Bellamy doesn’t have time to ruminate on it that afternoon – when he’s not moving mattresses he’s helping Wick rebuild a convey of trucks – but he does gather his people around the fire before dinner. 

“I should have said this last night, but I wanted to thank everyone for participating in this mission.” Across the fire, he catches Monty’s eye. “I know that for many of you, it wasn’t easy coming back here – it wasn’t easy for me either – but I also know the service you’re doing for our people. Because of you, we can survive here.” He meets Kane’s gaze. “We can live.” 

Miller shouts and the others follow suit and there are hands clapping down on his shoulder as he pushes through the crowd to Octavia. “Nice speech.”

Bellamy shrugs. “There are some things I do well.”

Octavia glances around the camp, at the two armies at peace, and smiles up at him. “Yeah,” she says. “You really do.”

 

* * *

 

The trucks are ready by noon the next day and on the road by three. There’s no direct route to camp, but the Mountain Men carved out a rough path for their recon missions and Wick thinks it will get them close enough to Camp Jaha to carry the supplies on foot. The first truckloads are necessities only – food, clothing, medical supplies and electronics – and they’ll figure out what to do with the rest of their gear at a later date. Bellamy sends Monty with them to supervise the supply train and make emergency repairs, and tasks Miller and his dad with handling security. The rank and file grumble about being left behind, but Bellamy doesn’t have time to care. Abby and Raven still have holes in their legs and need those antibiotics. 

After the last truck rolls away from the mountain, there’s little to do but wait. Bellamy puts one group on watch and sends out a hunting party, orders a third group to nap in shifts. Across the clearing, Indra sharpens her spear and barks orders to her team in Trigadesleng.

Octavia is watching her too, longing shimmering in her eyes. Strong and powerful as she’s become, his sister can’t hide a single thing she thinks or feels, and her pain is written across the strained lines of her face. She’d told him about what happened in the tunnels, the joy she’d felt when she’d become a Trigadakru, the agony that had followed when Indra took it away.

“I don’t regret it,” she’d said. “I would choose you every time, but I didn’t think it would hurt this much.” 

Bellamy can sympathize. He remembers how it felt when he stumbled on Abby and Kane in the woods, relief that he’d have help in finding his friends, frustration when they took his gun and bound his hands and locked him in another cage. He’d thought it was over and now he’s at the mountain and in command. If he got a second chance, Octavia can too.

“You could talk to her,” he suggests.

Octavia laughs without humor. “Yeah, right.”

“You won’t know unless you try.” 

She takes a long look at Indra, but the other woman scowls at them when she senses Octavia’s gaze. “I’m going to check on Jasper,” she says with a sigh and stomps off across camp.

Bellamy slips into his tent to sneak in some shut-eye before a check-in with Kane, and he’s just on the verge of sleep when Octavia’s shout rings through the clearing. He’s already out of his tent when his sister reaches him, eyes wide in her worried face.

“Jasper’s gone,” she says. “He went to put flowers on Maya’s grave and he didn’t come back.”

Two things happen. Bellamy’s heart slows down when he has confirmation that Octavia is fine, and then he mentally kicks himself for agreeing to Jasper’s request to bury Maya. Many had helped them inside the mountain, but she’d been their champion and it was only right that they give her a grave. Octavia had helped Jasper bury the body and carve a stone, and she’d sat with him for part of the night, just holding him while he trembled. He’d left an hour ago to visit and hasn’t been seen since.

“You’re sure?” Bellamy asks, but he knows his sister. If she’s panicking, she already checked all the places he could be. “Okay,” he says, assessing the assembled Sky People while trying to put together a plan. His people are strong and prepared, but they don’t know the woods. Monty and the baggage train will be back in a few hours and he wants the next load to leave within minutes of the previous one’s arrival. The sooner they get off this mountain, the better for everyone’s sanity; he can’t risk losing more people in the woods.

“The Trigadakru will find him,” Lexa interjects. She’s standing right behind him, so close he can almost touch her, and he closes his eyes and counts to ten before he says something he’ll regret. She always seems to be there when he needs help and it only makes him more annoyed.

“My men – ”

“Do not know these woods. We will find Jasper and return him to the mountain by night fall.”

 _“Take care of them for me,”_ Clarke whispers in his ear. He sighs heavily; he can’t even ignore the voice in his head. He doesn’t want to owe Lexa anything, but leaving Jasper in the wilderness isn’t an option either. “Alright. Go find him.”

“Bell, no – ” Octavia interjects but his mind’s made up. 

“O, let it go,” he says, grasps her elbow and tugs to the camp’s perimeter. “We don’t have the manpower to go looking for him. I don’t like it either, but they can find him in half the time.” 

He expects a snarling retort but she pushes up on her tiptoes to read his face, her own expression softening at what she sees there. “You’re doing the best you can,” she tells him.

He exhales. “I hope you’re right.”

Octavia grasps his chin with strength that no longer surprises him, forces his chin down so he has to meet her eyes. “When we were in the tunnels, I told Clarke that her best wasn’t good enough. I was mad about all the stuff with Indra, but I meant it too. I’d spent so long relying on her that I forgot that she’s human, that she can make mistakes. I think…sometimes I forget that the same goes for you. Jasper left and you didn’t have to send anyone after him, but you did, in the only way you can. Just keep doing that and everything will be okay.”

It’s the most insightful thing she’s ever said to him, chases away all vestiges of the girl his sister was, the girl that gasped at moon rises and chased butterflies through the forest. “Nice speech,” he says and Octavia laughs, throws herself against his chest and locks her arms around his waist.

“I learned from the best.” 

Bellamy laughs and it feels good, to joke with his sister, to find peace with her on their own terms, in a way that doesn’t threaten to suffocate both of them. It feels even better when a Grounder team brings Jasper back an hour later. He’s gagged and tied to the back of a horse like one of the flour sacks they found in the kitchen. He won’t talk to them when they cut him loose, even shakes off Octavia’s arm when she tries to drape it over his shoulders, but he’s alive and it’s all Bellamy cares about. 

But other things happen. Kane has a cordial conversation with Indra. Mel brings the Grounders water as a way of saying thanks. Lexa nods to him as she debriefs with her generals. After a moment, Bellamy nods back.

 

* * *

 

Octavia gets what she wants. It starts when Monty’s team preps for their third trip, a load that includes the guns. 

While the Sky People are packing the trucks, Indra argues in furious Trigadesleng with Lexa, face contorted in fury while she gestures wildly. They’re speaking too fast for Bellamy to understand most of it, but one word stands out: gon. _Gun_. He tries to ignore them and focus on reviewing the supply manifest but then Indra gives up on convincing Lexa and storms across the camp to confront him.

“We will take half the guns,” Indra says. “It is only fair.”

Bellamy crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s not the deal.”

“I ask to renegotiate the deal.”

“Answer is no.”

Kane steps in. “Your people don’t use guns. What’s changed?”

Indra looks to Lexa for confirmation. “The Alliance has broken,” the Commander says softly. “We were united to bring down the mountain and now it has fallen. The Ice Clan…” She pauses for a fraction of a second, but long enough for Bellamy to notice. “…will wage war against us. We need guns to be victorious. In exchange, we will provide you with supplies for winter, teach you how to understand the land.”

“Bellamy and I will need to discuss your offer.” Kane tugs him into his tent so they can talk privately, regards him gravely while Bellamy debate his options. “I think we should take the deal.”

“Not a chance.”

“Hear me out,” Kane says. “Lexa betrayed us, but she didn’t turn against us. Once the truce was made, her people never took up arms against us. I believe her when she says they need better weapons to defeat the Ice Clan.”

“And then what? We give them guns and set them loose? After they take down the Ice Clan, how do we know they won’t turn those same guns on us?”

“We don’t, but we also remember that the circumstances are different. The Trigadakru aren’t fighting to get their people back – they’re fighting for their very survival. We need to do this.”

Everything in him screams for him to say no, but he knows Kane’s right. They found plenty of clothes in the mountain, but none appropriate for a post-nuclear winter. They have seeds and flour, but no idea what to do with them. They have the tools but will need help to learn how to use them. “It’s a bad idea,” he says but shakes his head in agreement.

Kane shrugs. “Hope for the best but plan for the worst. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Two months ago, Bellamy would have disagreed, but today he’s not so sure. He should have died so many times – when the dropship fell, when Dax attacked him, when they took on Anya’s army, when the Mountain Men hung him by his ankles and drained his blood – but he’s still here, here and thriving. “This time, I think we will.”

They walk out of the tent as a united front and lay out their terms for Lexa. She agrees to the deal and even lets the Sky People sort the weapons. It would be an easy opportunity to cheat the Grounders out of half the goods, but Bellamy wants this to be honest. So much of their relationship is steeped in betrayal; he likes the idea of starting over. 

Kane breaks the guards into teams and assigns them to groups of Grounders, but Bellamy pulls Indra aside for a private conversation.

“You need to take my sister back.”

Indra glares at him and laughs harshly. “Octavia is no longer Trigadakru. She cannot come back.”

“It’s the right thing.” Bellamy’s acutely aware of the tension in his voice, but talking with Indra is painful at best and excruciating most of the time, and it’s the best he can do.

Her glare deepens. “She chose you over her people!” The words come out louder than she intended and she flushes under her dark tattoos.

“Is that what it’s about? You’re jealous?” This time, he can’t control the surprise in his voice.

Indra looks furious and embarrassed but she doesn’t back away. “Nothing is prized higher than loyalty.”

“Loyalty?” Bellamy scoffs. “How can you talk about loyalty after what your commander did? So Octavia chose to help people in need. That’s a lot braver than making a deal and abandoning your friends.” 

“If I take her back…” Indra looks uncertain and Bellamy can’t take it anymore.

“If you take her back, you’ve gained a warrior, a warrior that wants nothing more than to learn from you!” He gestures at the camp, Grounder and Sky People freely mingling and training together. “The world’s changing. If you don’t accept it you’re going to be left behind.” 

He leaves her to her thoughts and resumes his work organizing supplies for the next ride back to camp, but later that night Indra finds him by the campfire. Octavia is next to her tent mending some of her armor, and Bellamy smiles inwardly at how happy his sister looks doing Indra’s busy work.

He’s less happy when Indra joins him at the fire, tension building between his eyes at the thought of another interaction with her. He’s given so much to these people and still can’t find a moment for himself. 

“I underestimated you, Belomi kon Skaikru,” Indra says and bows her head, holds out a knife with an intricately embroidered sheath. 

“Thanks.”

Indra nods and mumbles something indecipherable in Trigadesleng before disappearing into the shadows. Kane comes over and inspects the knife in the firelight. “It’s no small thing for them to give you a gift.”

“It’s just a knife.”

“It’s a fresh start.” 

Alone in his tent, Bellamy inspects the knife, studies the pattern of trees and sky stitched into the case, the small arc of leaves etched into the blade, and it’s possibly the most beautiful thing he’s ever owned. He tucks it under his makeshift pillow and closes his eyes, dreams of green trees and blue sky and clear water rushing over dark rocks. He dreams of a future rather than the past.

 

* * *

 

Two more days pass and the mission comes to a close. There are six trucks parked within walking distance of Camp Jaha filled to the brim with furniture and odds and ends, but the food and medicine are already making an impact on those in need. Monty smiles for the first time since the mountain fell when he tells Bellamy how quickly Harper is healing.

All that’s left is keeping their end of the bargain – the first bargain – and Wick rigs some sort of massive explosive in the turbine room. Monty’s brought hydrazine back to set the charge and there’s no one in the control room to jam the frequency. One press of the button and Mount Weather will be nothing more than ash and dust. 

Wick hands Bellamy the detonator. “You ready to blow something up?” 

He shakes his head and hands it to Lexa, standing straight and eerily calm at his side. Her fingers tremble as they close around the detonator and he finds himself laying a steadying hand on her back. He remembers the night he shot Jaha, how his hands shook and were so soaked in sweat he almost dropped the gun, the most important night of his life and he’d never been so scared.

Lexa takes a deep breath, her back rising and falling under his hand, then whispers a prayer under her breath. “Jus drein, jus daun” she says and the mountain explodes before their eyes, brighter than any shooting star, like the supernova they glimpsed behind Venus the year he turned ten. There are murmurs in Trigadesleng, and when he turns to check on Lexa, she’s watching the mountain fall with tears in her eyes. 

It’s a long time before he can make it to bed. There are supply runs to schedule and riflery sessions to organize, and Octavia needs to gush about her training, and it’s long past midnight when he finally slumps into his tent.

Lexa is there, like she’s been every night, and he shrugs out of his jacket and boots before acknowledging her presence. “We did it,” he says and flops down in the sliver of space left on his bedroll. “Congratulations.” She’s hugging her knees to her chest and rocking slightly, and it’s only when she doesn’t respond that he realizes she’s crying. “Lexa?”

“She left because of _you_ ,” Lexa whispers. “She left because she knew that you would take her place, carry on where she couldn’t.” She turns to look at him, her tears glimmering like liquid silver on her skin. “She was right.”

He’s speechless for the minute it takes him to realize she’s giving him a compliment. “I’m just doing what anyone would have done.”

Lexa shakes her head. “I was chosen to be the commander. It’s a great honor but a path I must walk alone.”

Bellamy’s heard this before but seen otherwise. “I disagree. You have Indra, Echo, the other generals. You’re not alone.”

“They are my people, yes, but I don’t hold them in my heart.” She wipes at the tears but they only fall faster. “Twice, I have let someone into my heart, and both times, they have left me behind.”

He feels that flare of jealousy again, but a surge of hope as well. “I lost someone too,” he says, his throat raw from screaming the night they took Octavia away. “I thought she was gone forever, but then she came back.” 

“You believe that?”

 _“May we meet again,”_ Clarke whispers, seals her promise with the brush of her lips over his cheek.

“Yeah, I do.”

“You are not what I expected, Belomi kon Skaikru,” Lexa says, rubbing the last of the tears from her face. 

She looks tiny and exhausted and so much like Clarke that he can’t help the words that pour from his mouth. He’s always had a savior complex when it comes to brave, but broken girls. 

“Move over.” Her eyes widen in surprise, then relief, and she complies, slides to the far side of the bedroll. “This is just for tonight,” he says and holds out a hand. “Agreed?”

“Agreed.” 

He falls asleep with Lexa pressed against his back but dreams of Clarke. He wakes to a new day, one step closer to seeing her again.

**Author's Note:**

> Plot bunny that would not rest until it was written. What was meant to be a short little thing exploded into twenty-some pages of text, and as always when I write Bellamy, I’m really nervous about this. Your feedback is eagerly anticipated. Title and quote courtesy of Cream. Enjoy.


End file.
